


Oryctolagus Cuniculus

by shouldbeover



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-09
Updated: 2012-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-29 06:29:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shouldbeover/pseuds/shouldbeover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock can't sleep and his mind is running (stream of conciousness)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oryctolagus Cuniculus

**Author's Note:**

> Very slight spoilers for BELG, but only spoilery if you already know the two lines referenced. If not, you won't notice them at all.
> 
> Reference to an event in my young Sherlock and Mycroft story Little Monster, but not necessary to have read. For Americans, Whitsun Sunday is the seventh Sunday after Easter, generally called Pentecost in America.

_whir’r-click-beat, whir’r-click-beat_

Tiny sound. Reassuring. Gear turns, hangs for a moment on the teeth, slips over, hand moves. Second ends. Next begins. Simple machines—wedge, wheel and axle.

Arm thrown across forehead. Reassuring sound of watch next to the ear. Like the Grandfather in the hall. Bonging the hour. Counting hours of not sleep.

Hadn’t thought of that in years. Why?

Tick-tock, tick-tock. Onomatopoeia. Inexact at best.

Woof, woof. Meow. Ouah Ouah. Miaou. Bow-wow.

Yowl. Dogs howl and cats yowl. Why?

Cat next door, entertaining her suitors, headless trophies on the garden wall—mice, finches, even rabbits.

Rabbits make no noise. Squeak, maybe? When the cats are there?

There were rabbits at the end of the garden. Did they make a sound?

Don’t know. Never close enough.

Laid out carrots. Gone in the morning.

Any vegetable would have done. Blame the storybooks.

Story book rabbits.

Threw the ball at the mirror to see if it would go to the other side.

Rabbits don’t wear waistcoats.

Running naked as a child, Nanny and Mummy (Mycroft there?) Waving pieces of clothing. “Sherlock Holmes, put on your clothes!”

Why? Why should I? Rabbits don’t wear waistcoats.

Knew better even then.

Why? How to test something impossible?

Stitches: exciting. Empirical data: see, touch, taste. White rabbit, velveteen rabbit, Rabbit and Tigger, Peter Cottontail, Flopsy, Mopsy. Too many rabbits.

Rabbits? How did I get to rabbits?

Tired. Too tired. Beyond tired. MUST NOT LET JOHN KNOW!

Too far this time. Brain in crash mode. File dump. Everything ever deleted being purged. Like a stomach. Like going to far past eating and stomach regurgitates. Brain regurgitates.

Want to sleep. Need to sleep. Count rabbits. Counting rabbits.

Back to rabbits. Bloody rabbits. The bloody pirate Bunnikins. What? Left out in the garden. Lost an eye. Argh. Pirates now?

Pirates. Did I really want to be a pirate? Treasure Island. Romantic. Foolish. Why a pirate? Why not a wizard or a knight?

John thought it hilarious. Thank you, Mycroft.

Mycroft as rabbit. Waistcoat and pocket watch. Hoppity.

Must not laugh hysterically. John will hear. Thought I was high last time.

Dear God, how do people live like this? All a useless jumble of meaningless things, pointless memories. Cocaine. They don’t understand. Streamlines. Defrags.

John as rabbit? Surely not.

Me as rabbit? Something more prickly I would think.

Why rabbits? NEED SLEEP! No, Dammit! Can do this. Just think. Think!

Running through that museum. Something. Saw rabbits.

In a museum? Don’t be daft Sherlock. I am going mad. Mad as a hatter. As a March hare.

Hare. Hare. Hair. My hair wants washing. But not cutting. Must. Not. Giggle.

But yes, rabbits.

No.

Not rabbits.

Rabbit.

One rabbit.

One clockwork rabbit.

Time. Rabbit time. Easter. Late Easter. Later Whitsun. Both on British Summer Time this year.

The vicar’s alibi impossible now. Sun dial on sun time, not match the clocks. No clockworks.

I am brilliant!

Tell John!

No. Not good. Other people sleep. Text Lestrade. Better.

Better in my sleep than other people awake. Brilliant. John will say so. Digital mind. No noise. No gears.

Silence. Silence now. System sleeps.

* * *


End file.
